


Draco, Draco On the Wall

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clones, HP: EWE, M/M, Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-15
Updated: 2008-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell gone astray leaves Harry with more trouble than he signed up for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sandman

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an entry to a [Picture Prompt fic challenge [NWS]](http://tes-aidan.livejournal.com/181672.html) by [](http://tes-aidan.livejournal.com/profile)[**tes_aidan**](http://tes-aidan.livejournal.com/). I used [**Picture 10 [NSFW]**](http://pics.livejournal.com/tes_aidan/pic/0000e5kd/g5). I had been trying to use a polyjuice idea for this, but it wasn't coming out right. For [](http://draco-pet.livejournal.com/profile)[**draco_pet**](http://draco-pet.livejournal.com/) as well.

Harry sat forlornly at his extremely messy desk. He sighed and turned his head to his left, squinting in the bright light of a false morning. Why were the Ministry weather-charms so sunny today? It was absolutely terrible, considering the huge cock-up going on.

Draco Malfoy's desk was perpendicular to his on this side and he was sitting behind it, lording over the bare surface and regarding Harry with a frigid stare, the collar of his robes drawn to an alarmingly rigid height around his neck. His eyes narrowed as Harry sighed again.

Harry turned his head to the right; every Auror's desk had a straight-backed wooden chair beside it, for visitors or suspects. In this seat, grey eyes twinkling, _another_ Draco Malfoy perched, smiling shyly as Harry exhaled heavily for the third time.

He placed his head on a pile of parchment and thumped it hard for good measure.

:: ::

It was entirely the fault of the Sandman.

:: ::

The Sandman, a cat-burglar that moved like smoke through the cracks of a wall; house-owners would go to sleep, wake up the next morning and find nearly all of their valuables gone. The wards would be intact, no alarms would have sounded, and the only trace of an intruder was a scattering of silvery sand. No fingerprints, that was to be expected, but no other clues? No forced doors, no disturbed house-elves, nothing? It was ridiculous. Shacklebolt was growing more and more agitated over the case, which was saying a lot for Shacklebolt, but the victims were all wealthy Wizarding families with political clout. He took Malfoy and Harry from all their other cases, and put them permanently on the Mystery of the Sandman. _Together_ , which was something they rarely did. Many were appeased that Harry Potter was placed on the case and Shacklebolt was grimly content that Auror Malfoy would be there to back up Auror Potter.

"Until it is solved," he had threatened in that slow, deep voice of his. "No other case. I don't need a murder emerging from this. And that _can_ come about, quite easily, some person happening upon the thief and spells fly. Solve it," he had ordered and the two Aurors had gotten to work, long nights poring over non-existent clues, peering with bleary eyes at Wizarding crime scene photos, which spun slowly on a visual axis to produce a 360-degree view. Harry loved these photographs, which could be paused with the touch of a wand; by drawing one's wand up or down against the matte surface, the frozen view would be zoomed in or out; excellent for inspecting fine details or an overall examination of a room.

Fairly quickly, they had come upon a big break.

:: ::

"And my Ming vases!" Mrs. Mary Ludvin had screeched as Harry collected a vial of the strange silver sand. The Magical Crime Laboratory was quite stumped over every sample they brought in. It was just ordinary sand, albeit strangely tinted, with trace amounts of magic. "I bought those just last year, auctioned for them!"

"The eggs," Mr. Ludvin was saying blankly. He was as skinny as his wife and the both of them had the same long, pale faces; they looked more like siblings than a couple. Mrs. Ludvin's face was currently boiling red, and Harry feared for her blood-pressure.

"The Fabergé eggs! Oh, oh," she gasped and Mr. Ludvin helped her to a chair and patted her hand carefully. The room in which all these items had been displayed had been unwarded, which was a common habit. Persons just normally set a disastrously strong ward on the entire building, and trip-charms on the doorways of their display rooms. The Ludvins had been avid collectors of antique decorated eggs and cutlery, placing them in finely made cabinets.

"This is quite terrible," Mr. Ludvin continued in that bland voice of his. Everyone dealt with the shock of an intruder in different ways; the thought of someone entering one's house without consent, rooting around and taking belongings, one that chilled the skin and coiled something fearfully dark in the stomach. Mr. Ludvin looked sadly at his dismantled cabinets; he had told Harry that he had had made them by hand, and to see them taken apart by a cleverly silent _Effrego_ was dismaying.

"Huh." Harry tilted his head as he stared at a wall. Malfoy paused in his genteel note-taking and slanted a look in his direction. "Hmm."

He turned away, but Malfoy was at his side immediately, grasping at his elbow.

"What is it?" Malfoy said in a low voice as Mrs. Ludvin dabbed at the corner of her eyes with one of her husband's handkerchiefs.

"I don’t know… it's nothing." Harry stared at Draco as his grip pulled tighter around Harry's arm. "Malfoy, it's probably nothing."

"No, it _isn't_. If it's _one_ thing you've developed well, it's some sort of crazy intuition. I suppose we’ve all learnt to trust it." He spared Harry a slight twitch of his lips, his version of an indulgent smile while they were at work. Harry repressed his own grin and pointed to the object hanging on the wall, placed over the mantel.

"I've seen it before," Harry explained as Malfoy released his arm. "Something in the design, I'm… I'm not too sure." Malfoy looked into his face and turned away to stare at the shining item hanging on the wall. Harry furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. "In other… houses," he said, almost absently; he and Malfoy exchanged a glance.

"Mrs. Ludvin?" Malfoy called out smoothly; Harry always envied him his people-skills, as the lady left off crying and looked up at him with a damp face. He motioned to the hanging object with his sharp chin. "When and where did you purchase that?"

"A fairly new establishment in Diagon Alley," Mr. Ludvin supplied, rubbing at his high forehead. "Called… what was it, dear?"

"The Parallel Echo." Mrs. Ludvin furrowed her forehead. "Quite a tiny store, but quite satisfactory. Why? What does that--"

"We will be in contact," was all Malfoy offered politely, before grabbing Harry's arm again and literally launching him through the Floo.

"Next time, allow me to step through the blasted fireplace myself," Harry griped as they made their way through the wide Atrium of the Ministry and got into a lift. Malfoy's smile became wide and mischievous, a complete change from his normal grave façade as an Auror. Sometimes Harry felt he was dealing with two different people, for Malfoy could be playful as an otter one moment and cynical as a rainy day the next.

At least it kept life interesting.

"Look, look at this," Malfoy said as he pinned the four Sandman case-photos on the whiteboard behind their desks, each showing a violated private show-room, the view changing as it slowly rotated. He stopped two of them and Harry realized what Malfoy was looking for, what Harry had himself had seen before and had relegated the detail to the back of his mind.

Harry tapped his wand on the other two and zoomed in.

Mirrors with finely-carved frames were caught in the bounds of the photograph. They all looked different, some wider than others, some with a wooden frame instead of metallic. Even though they all _appeared_ unrelated, as mirrors go, the styles of sigils carved into the frames were remarkably similar. _Why would magical sigils be needed on a mirror-frame_ , Harry wondered, biting on the inside of his bottom lip. Mirrors that spoke had their verbal charms woven into glass itself; as a matter of fact, those were mostly reflective charms, picking up on some facet of the viewer's personality and projecting it out again.

"Why weren't these stolen, too?" Harry speculated as Malfoy inspected a few of the photos, comparing them. "I mean, the Sandman wasn't exactly a biased shopper."

"Look… there's a keyhole in this one," Malfoy muttered and Harry nodded; they both inspected the other three mirrors in the photographs. In the upper right corner of each, a tiny keyhole was hidden in the design.

Malfoy's smile was sly. "Shall we be off to the Parallel Echo?"

:: ::

 _Really_ , Harry thought as he raced after the wizard who had dashed to the back of the store as soon as Malfoy and Harry had entered the Parallel Echo, _why do the bad guys always run? They should give us a break now and again. I mean, it's keeping me in shape and all that, but sometimes I wish they would just--_

"Potter, stop thinking so much," Malfoy puffed as he ran down impossibly long corridors, the material of his dark Auror robes flapping noisily. He had longer arms and legs and had developed the enviable habit of tackling suspects, but Hermes DeSouza, the young wizard who owned this crazy house of mirrors, seemed as if he was oiled. Every time Malfoy reached out to grab him, he slipped down another passage, racing through a veritable maze that was stuffed magically in the small back-space of the tiny store. There were mirrors everywhere, in all sorts of sizes, and a hundred Harrys and Dracos flashed in and out of view.

"Halt!" Malfoy bellowed in his best commanding-Auror voice. DeSouza threw a half-terrified, half-defiant look over his shoulder, his long brown hair in those fussy curls that were still in fashion, even though Harry's messy-haired coif was all the rage… or so Draco said when he was in a taunting mood. "Just fucking _halt_!"

Harry cast a Stunning Spell, but DeSouza leapt to one side, and turned into a tall arched entry-way. Harry and Malfoy tumbled into a hexagon-shaped room just in time to see DeSouza pull his wand, which had a very strange shape at its tip. As he jabbed it in the upper-right corner of the mirror, Harry realized that the tip was in the form of a tiny key.

DeSouza turned the key-wand frantically and fell forward _into_ the mirror. Malfoy let out a cry as sand from the mirror exploded in DeSouza's wake, a silver wave that was flung right into his face. The mirror shimmered back into place as DeSouza disappeared behind the reflection.

"Follow him!" Malfoy snapped as Harry stopped to inspect his face. His eyes were closed tightly, tears streaking out of the corners and down the sides of his face. "I'll be fine, it's just the sand in my eye, _shit_."

Harry paused to cast his Patronus, sending it cantering off to alert Shacklebolt, and then turned to inspect the mirror. The keyhole was now turned on its side, and he touched the surface, grimacing as his fingers slid a little ways in, up to his knuckles. It was a clammy, almost slimy sensation and he watched in amazement as displaced sand from the magically-altered glass slithered around his fingers and fell in a bright line to fall to the ground at his feet.

"Turn your face away," Harry warned, "I'm going in."

He didn't think he would create that wave as DeSouza had, but he still slid in the still-activated mirror very carefully.

He found himself in a shadowy place… a strange in-between world, apparently, a bizarre blue light shimmering right above him as daylight would filter down through the surface of a lake, even though he could not see any ceiling at all; just that strange, dancing illumination, almost hypnotic. There was no grass, just the shifting feeling of sand underfoot. He had the sensation of being in a room, even though he could not see any walls in the weird haze.

There were plain mirrors hovering in this closed, dim place and as Harry approached one, he could see _into_ someone's house; someone's over-stuffed display room, filled with hoarded heirlooms. All DeSouza had to do was step from this shadowy mirror-world into their space, bypassing the wards completely and taking what he wished.

Harry was in the middle of sneaking behind a large oval mirror, when something like a large, soft hand shoved him to the left; at the same time, he heard the explosive sound of shattering glass. Landing on his side with a pained yell, he turned to see Malfoy training his wand on DeSouza, who had sent a blue-tinged curse towards Harry. If Malfoy hadn't pushed him out of the way with a quick _Impetus_ , he might have had all his bones try to turn themselves out of his skin, considering the colour and the smell of the passing spell.

DeSouza skittered away under Malfoy's furious attack, coming close to where Harry was struggling up from the ground; he was throwing spell after spell at Draco, and let out a pained cry as one of Malfoy's curses shot past whatever shields he had put up. Malfoy advanced on him, face lit up with nasty glee and DeSouza flung himself towards the nearest mirror.

"Ah, fuck," Malfoy spat, turning away quickly in anticipation of another sand-wave. Without thinking, Harry scrambled forward, reaching out just as DeSouza leapt, and grasped onto one booted foot. He closed his eyes tightly as they slid through the cold, gritty boundary of the mirror and tumbled into a high-ceilinged, softly-lit room.

Immediately, Harry cast a banshee spell and the howling shrieks emitting from the tip of his own wand caused DeSouza to clap his hands over his ears in pain. Good; this would set off the wards of whatever house they were in, if it hadn't already alerted the occupants. Harry, like every Auror, had been subjected to the harsh wails as part of his training, and stumbled over to the man who was backed against a wall, trying to cast even as he grimaced in agony. DeSouza raised his hand and brought it down desperately, a slash of his key-wand, and Harry dodged, feeling it crackle so close to his head that he could smell singed hair.

Harry lunged forward and pounced gracelessly, grappling with DeSouza and snatching his wand away, even as he tumbled the yelling criminal to the ground. Vaguely, he could hear screams and shouts coming from the entrance of the plush room they had fallen into.

"I'm an Auror!" he yelled, but the house-owners seemed to ignore him. Grimly, he spun DeSouza around, kneeling in his back and spelling a secure metal link around his wrists. "Be quiet!" he bawled at the shrill sounds of the family and they shrunk back, staring at him with large, shocked eyes. Where was Malfoy's refined approach when it was so sorely needed? "Look, just… let me deal with this, for a moment."

The wizard of the house, a tiny man who was being used as a shield by his tall wife, opened his mouth to possibly let out a rebuking stream; then his gaze went to something behind Harry as he crouched over DeSouza and his mouth remained open in shock.

Harry turned his head quickly and felt a sharp little bolt of panic chase down his chest.

 _Amazing_ , Harry thought wildly, for although they could all see their own reflections, they could also make out Malfoy standing right behind the reflective surface, blinking back at them, his fine hair awry and Auror robes torn and dusty; the spell that DeSouza had flung at Harry had obviously struck the surface of the mirror, for it was cracked right down the center. Malfoy's mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to speak, and then he shuddered, eyes fluttering shut.

"Malfoy!" Harry cried as he watched to tall, slender figure begin to slump forward. In horror, he watched as Malfoy fell right out of the mirror, but as he passed through the jagged fracture, he seemed to… to _split_.

Someone from the terrified wizard family moaned in dismay as two Malfoys collapsed onto the fine burgundy carpet.


	2. Draco and Malfoy

"Potter," Shacklebolt intoned as he loomed over their little corner and gazed at one Malfoy and then the other. "Malfoy… and _Malfoy_."

"Sir," the Malfoy behind the Auror desk said in a tight voice. The Malfoy that was perched on the chair next to Harry's desk looked up at Shacklebolt's imposing form with wary eyes. His eyes flicked to Harry's, who offered him a reassuring smile.

"Good job on the capture of the Sandman. We've managed to retrieve the majority of stolen items from a warded room in his shop." Shacklebolt inclined his head formally; Harry and Malfoy returned curt nods.

"He even had a small persuasion spell on Parallel Echo, to induce people to buy the mirrors." Harry handed over thick case-file that he and Malfoy had prepared. "So, that's another charge against him, those are illegal in Diagon."

Shacklebolt took the file, his mouth twisted in bemusement. "Excellent work. Now if only _someone_ can outline to me how the two of you manage to come out with _more_ trouble than what you went in with."

"Usually it's because Potter is an idiot, sir," Auror Malfoy said in crisp exasperation. Harry rolled his eyes.

"This time it wasn't his fault, though." The Malfoy beside his desk stared at a drawing on a large parchment hung on a wall behind Harry's desk, a gift from the new Phoenix Heart Primary Wizarding School. The children had been quite enthusiastic with their representation of Harry's hair and just as fervent with the very basic animation charms they had been taught, so that the result was akin to an electrocuted hedgehog with fits; nevertheless, Harry had been amused with it and had hung it in pride of place, where the other Aurors would chuckle over it.

The other three men blinked at this murmured defence of Harry; this Malfoy simply tilted his head, eyes flicking to them as soft blond hair fell into his face; Harry thought it was the most adorable thing ever. "It wasn't _his_ spell that broke the mirror."

"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry blurted in surprise, noting out of the corner of his eye that Auror Malfoy was sneering so hard, his _nostrils_ were actually curling out of shape.

"Draco," the Malfoy at Harry's desk said. "Possibly you'd like to call me Draco. To avoid confusion, of course."

Harry blinked rapidly, taken aback. Malfoy, when he was one whole person, had decreed that Harry should never call him Draco while they were at work. He nodded, and then offered another smile, which Draco returned to him in full-force, the dimple in his right cheek appearing.

He turned to Auror Malfoy. "And… so what should I call you? Your middle name?"

"Certainly not." The Auror gave him a solid glare. " _Malfoy_ will be sufficient."

"Right," Harry said dryly. "I'll just stick to that, then."

"I'll have to have a discussion with a few of the Unspeakables," Shacklebolt muttered, tugging at the smart sleeves of his robes, "since we haven't managed to get any proper solution from Hermes DeSouza. Not that you weren't properly threatening, Malfoy," he hastened to add, as Malfoy's expression was filled with thunderous disappointment. "It's just that he truly did not know the solution to your current predicament. And I believe if he did, he would have surely succumbed to your… _persuasive_ tactics."

Malfoy seemed to be appeased.

"So what happens?" Draco asked, running a hand through his fall of hair. At his desk, Malfoy was doing the exact same thing with the opposite hand, and Harry shook his head, feeling as if he was experiencing vertigo. They both had wands, he noticed, identical slender branches of highly polished wood. "What shall we do now?"

"Go home. Rest," Shacklebolt advised. "Three days departmental leave, be sure to fill in the blue, green and purple forms for me to sign, and get back here ready for your other assignments. We'll figure something out."

Shacklebolt sailed off in the direction of his own office, shaking his head in perplexity. Malfoy twitched his wand and a pile of brightly coloured forms sailed towards them from out of the neat wooden shelves near the door of the tiny room in which they had their tea. Harry caught three sheets of parchment, sighing over the tiny sections waiting to be filled out.

"What should I put in 'Reason For Leave', Malfoy?" he asked as he reached to dip his quill in a pot of ink that Draco had kindly pushed closer to him.

"Split personality," Malfoy drawled and his cool expression warmed just a little as Harry laughed out loud.

Getting all the forms stamped and signed took a long time (reminding Harry why he rarely took leave anyway, the procedure to fill out the forms was as lengthy as a vacation in itself), and Malfoy had worked himself into a terrible mood again by the time they were ready to leave the Ministry.

"Hurry up," he snarled as they made their way to an Apparition room, after they had all decided that they could not be bothered to wait for an available Floo in the public space of the Atrium. "I'd like to reach home within this decade, thanks."

"Am I always that pissy?" Draco wondered in a loud whisper. He turned his face to Harry as they scampered down the hall after a stomping Malfoy. "How do you stand me?"

"You're not like that all the time," Harry felt the need to explain as they turned a corner. "Just at work."

"I see," Draco said, still looking confounded as they went past a tall, narrow doorway, finding themselves in a corridor was free of the Ministry's wards. There was a line of arched doors, each one leading to a small round room.

"I'll go first," Malfoy declared and stepped inside the closest room.

"Can I Side-Along with you," Draco murmured in Harry's ear. "I've never liked Apparating by myself. It’s a lonely trip."

"Are you _honestly_ going to give away all our secrets?" Malfoy spat in irritation. Draco lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug and Malfoy actually gave a pained sigh, before turning and winking smoothly out of existence.

"Come on," Harry said, dragging Draco into the round room and putting his arms around him. Draco immediately placed his face in the crook of Harry's neck, bending a little due to his slightly taller frame. Harry turned his own face slightly, feeling Draco's hair tickle his cheek, and in a practiced spin, where they both moved with fluid familiarity, he concentrated on his destination; as he Apparated, he felt his magic catch at Draco as well and pull them through space and time, hurtling through a buzzing boundary that indicated that the wards of the large flat he and Draco Malfoy shared.

"Home sweet home," Draco said in a contented sigh, raising his head and peering around with satisfaction. Harry grinned; this was where Draco was _Draco_. Whenever they returned from assignments, this side of him came to fore, the part of him that could be affectionate and caring, the part that was as gracious as Narcissa and offered Ron and Hermione exquisitely-made sandwiches from his mother’s talented chef-elves that had Ron staring at them in distrust even as his mouth watered. Harry suspected that Draco did it on purpose, to set them on edge.

"I'll start some supper, I think it’s my evening," Draco now said with determination, pulling at the buttons of the Auror uniform he had on. "Ugh, these robes, I hate them."

Malfoy exited out of the bedroom he had claimed for himself when they had first moved in, dressed in a black shirt and trousers. He fixed them with a narrowed glare and then marched off to the small office.

"Hello to you, too," Harry called and Draco snickered.

"Go on, get a shower," Draco said, pushing him gently in the direction of the bathroom. Harry gave him a tired grin, and wandered off.

:: ::

Supper was an uncomfortable affair, with Malfoy glowering down at the omelettes that Draco had whipped out quickly. Draco had insisted on sitting close to Harry in the eating-nook in the kitchen, which Harry had installed when they had moved in. It looked a bit like something out of a pub, a half-circle of plush seating cramped around a small, round wooden table. Draco's and Malfoy's long legs fought for dominant space, and Harry was kicked more than once as they both squirmed.

"Alright!" Harry said loudly as his ankle was nearly crushed for the twentieth time. "I'm going to bed." He suddenly remembered that Draco liked to clamber into his bed when they were ready to sleep, disregarding his own room completely. What if _both_ of them wanted to get in?

Harry thought that would actually be quite brilliant and his cock twitched in agreement.

"I'll be in my room," Malfoy said smoothly, arching a challenging eyebrow at Draco, who smirked. Harry looked from one to the other, feeling a little helpless... and disappointed.

"I suppose I'll have to be in Harry's room, then." His voice was airy and Harry glanced quickly at Malfoy, who was gripping his dinner knife most ominously; Harry came to the quickest decision that would result in the least bloodshed.

"Or! You could sleep in the office, there's a sofa-bed," he suggested as calmly as he dared, while Malfoy and Draco stared guardedly at each other.

"Alright, alright," Draco sighed dramatically. "But _he_ needs to do the dishes." With that, he slid out of the side of the kitchen booth and made his way out, hips moving most seductively. Harry stared at the curve of his bottom in the jeans that Harry had taken out of Malfoy's closet while Draco had showered. He tore his eyes away and spotted Malfoy watching him with a calculating grey gleam.

"Is that how you watch me as I go?" Malfoy mused in a low voice. Harry shrugged.

"It's a nice view, anyway," he replied and escaped before Malfoy remembered the charm they had placed on the kitchen, which would refuse to let the last person free until they did the dishes.

:: ::

Harry wriggled under the duvet, sticking his bare feet into the cool air as he lay face-down. For some reason, he liked having his feet exposed, even though the rest of his naked body was covered over. He began to clear his mind, letting thoughts flit through without latching onto any of them, a trick Ron had taught him for falling asleep quickly. As a rule, he wasn't very good at it, for his mind would try to worry over everything that had happened in the day, but now he was practically dead to the world when he felt the covers being lifted surreptitiously and cool silky material brushed against his warm skin.

"Hmm," he queried lazily as his hair was moved from the nape of his neck, and a kiss was pressed into the skin there. "Malfoy?"

" _Draco_ ," came the whispered reply. Harry turned his face in the direction of the voice and opened his mouth to ask more questions, when Draco's mouth was sealed against his own, a clever tongue curling against his. Harry groaned and tried to roll over, to possibly pull away and ask Draco what he thought he was doing with Malfoy sleeping just _the next room over_ (and Malfoy was an extremely light sleeper), but Draco kept doing that _thing_ , where his tongue searched out the secrets in Harry's mouth, his fingers sauntering confidently down the indent of his spine, causing Harry to shudder and feel his cock thicken in interest under his body.

"Draco," he tried again, attempting to turn over once more, but Draco moved away, sliding the duvet from Harry and straddling his hips. Harry stifled a moan at the sensation of Draco's long cock at the other side of the silken pyjamas Harry had located for him, warm and thick against the crack of his arse. He tightened his buttocks in reflexive anticipation.

"How long has it been, Harry?" Draco's mouth found the back of his neck again, licking a hot circle before tracing a route of kisses along one shoulder and back over to the other. "I know your… _our_ schedules have been quite demanding for weeks."

"For weeks," Harry agreed feebly as he raised himself a little, allowing Draco's hand to slip under his chest and stroke against a keen nipple, which crinkled thankfully against the touch. Draco licked at one shoulder-blade, then moved back a little, holding Harry lightly by the hips and tugging gently. Harry got the hint, pulling his legs up under himself and going up on his knees, head still resting on folded arms. He bit his lip when Draco's hands cupped his buttocks, and pulled apart a little, exposing his hole to a hungry gaze; he could not help a needy gasp as Draco's thumbs pressed in a little, massaging down to a clenching target.

"I'm not going to cast a Silencing Charm." Draco's voice was a bare whisper. "You're going to be completely quiet."

"But--"

"Let me do this. And be quiet."

Harry's breathing became laboured as he felt a hot swipe at one cheek, and then the other; when Draco's tongue slithered into him, rounding experimentally against his furled hole, he buried his face in the pillow and gasped into it with every tortuous wet wiggle. His cock was proudly ready and Draco's hand slid up between his thighs, cupping his balls and rolling them. Harry felt the wiry hairs rasp against the a cool palm before Draco's hand went further, fingers wrapping delicately around Harry's pulsing shaft.

Harry pressed back eagerly against Draco's face; he was rewarded by quick piercing jabs that elicited a hoarse gasp every time. He could not restrain a whimper when a long, slick finger slid past that tongue, turning with slow torment. Harry actually wriggled his hips a little, begging for another lubricated digit; he felt Draco's smile as his wish was granted immediately.

"Draco." Harry went up on trembling arms, trying to peer over his shoulder, wondering why he hadn't followed his whim that last time and placed a mirror on the wall opposite his bed, so he could see Draco clad in his dark pyjamas, kneeling behind Harry's naked body, pale skin almost glowing in the gloom as he licked enthusiastically. After considering what they had been through with mirrors, Harry satisfied himself with trying to crane his neck as far as he could, catching the movement of light hair.

Draco's finger crooked inside of him and Harry jerked in pleasure, holding back his whimpers behind his teeth.

"Good," Draco praised in a murmur and Harry was actually wondering if this was a bit wrong, if he was cheating on _Malfoy_ with _Draco_ , but all those ponderings fled as Draco pulled out his fingers and moved a little away. Harry waited, listening to the rustling and his own laboured breathing, feeling aroused even at the _pause_ that Draco subjected him to.

He made a sharp whine in the back of his throat as the rounded head of Draco's cock slipped against the slick tight ring, not entering him, teasing his willing opening with slow strokes.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Harry begged.

"Shhh." Draco's whisper was amused and they both hissed as Draco breached him slowly, Harry gulping shallow mouthfuls of air through his mouth as he felt the measured stretch and the heat of Draco's hand gripping one hip almost painfully; Harry felt the soft, tight skin of Draco's balls nestle against his and he writhed in anticipation. Draco was still dressed in his fancy nightwear and Harry could feel the material brush against the heated skin of his bottom.

Draco was not moving, however and Harry turned his head in desperation, hoping to get a kiss and some movement of that delicious cock buried inside him, but Draco remained still, staring at his door. A light was on in the corridor, a thin strip of warm yellow sneaking underneath his door.

Malfoy was probably headed to the bathroom. Or to the kitchen for a cup of tea, the man was an _insomniac_ ; an insomniac with frightfully good hearing, and Harry hoped that he would not notice the muffled moan as Draco slipped a hand over his mouth and leaned down to press lips close to Harry's ear, pumping his hips in and out.

He wasn't saying _anything_ , just continued to fuck Harry with those slow, unbearable thrusts, breathing harshly in his ear. Harry fumbled a hand down to stroke at his rigid cock, pulling at it wildly as Draco's balls slapped against his arse.

There was a shuffling sound right outside his door and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trembling under Draco's assault, cock dragging inside him, thrusting; he could feel the slick heat of Draco within him, the damp ends of his hair tingling across the sweaty round of Harry's shoulder; he could hear his own harsh breathing cascade over Draco's hand pressed against his mouth, just as Draco's strained panting tickled his skin.

The light in the corridor was extinguished abruptly and there was a gentle sound, a door opening and closing; Harry allowed a hoarse whimper to claw its way out of his throat as Draco drove deeper into him, his hand grasping Harry's cock as well, in erratic strokes. He tightened his fist around Harry’s shaking fingers, once, twice and Harry bit into Draco's palm as he came, feeling Draco's teeth at the crook of his neck as he throbbed inside Harry.

Draco removed his teeth and his hands, wincing as he flexed the hand Harry had bitten. Harry buried his face in his pillow and let himself breathe as hard as he wanted, moaning when Draco slid out of him and continued to hold him open. He actually jumped as a warm breath fanned over his overly sensitive hole and he grasped a handful of the mangled duvet as Draco's tongue invaded him again.

It was far too much; he bucked and wriggled against the assault, but Draco's hand was firm on his back as he took what he wanted from Harry, dipping and twisting and tasting.

Finally, Harry found himself being rolled onto his back, wilted as if he had been relieved of all his bones; he stared up at Draco's dim, blurry form, barely making out a hint of a smile, a flash of white teeth as Draco tossed his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes, adjusting the twisted dark-blue material of his pyjamas, almost black in the gloom of the room.

"Where're you going?" Harry imagined that Draco would snuggle down onto Harry's side, petting his heated skin as they fell asleep. Instead, Draco slipped off the bed, almost at the door by the time Harry had gathered enough brain-cells to croak at him.

"Bed," returned the low reply. "If I stay, I'll want to get in you again."

"That's a bad thing?" Harry went up on his elbows and drew his knees up as well, trying to appear sultry. It must have been working, for Draco's hand, which had reached out to grasp the doorknob, faltered and then reached out again.

"I can be very jealous and resentful man," Draco replied cryptically. "You know that."

Harry thought deeply on this as Draco slipped quietly outside, so deeply that he fell asleep.


	3. Malfoy and Draco

Harry poked at the eggs and rubbed at his nose, smiling as Draco rested his sharp chin on his shoulder and peered at the stove-top.

"I don't want a runny egg. I like mine firm," Draco demanded; Harry rolled his eyes, and they both turned at the sound of Malfoy clearing his throat.

"Morning," Harry said with forced cheer; Malfoy raised his eyebrows blandly and wandered over to the coffee-pot, staring at the cups behind the glass cupboard door before taking a generic one out. Draco had beaten him to it, and was now sipping contentedly out of the green-and-gold cup which had the phrase _SNAKE-LIKE ATTRIBUTES_ marked on it. "Sleep well?"

"Fairly." Malfoy sounded reserved, but he stood near to Harry, pressing his hip against the edge of the counter and taking a long mouthful. Harry felt a bit like small prey as Malfoy stared at them over the rim of his coffee-cup. "I trust you had a restful night also?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, until he realized that Malfoy was addressing Draco, and not himself.

"Oh, very relaxing," Draco airily and nuzzled Harry behind the ear. Harry, feeling out-of-control of the whole situation as it was, felt his eyes flutter shut before gathering some modicum of strength and shifting away. Draco hummed in amusement, but Malfoy's expression was piercing.

"Well. Since we're _all rested_ , possibly Potter would take part in a sparring session in the back room? We can't have our patented Hero reduced to mush during our leave, can we?" He sounded so solicitous, but his eyes were bright with malice. Harry groaned internally; Malfoy was _dedicated_ to keeping fit on the job, and dragged Harry along to nearly Close Physical Defence session, even those that did not necessarily require their attendance.

Now, his arse still twinged in recollection of the night before, and he was just about to beg off, but he frowned at the spiteful shimmer in Malfoy's eyes and set his jaw.

"After breakfast," he decided and plated their food, bringing them over to the eating nook.

"Just remember, Harry," Draco said, shaking out his napkin as they took their seats. "Sometimes, I _love_ mush."

* * *

"I thought working with you on a case would be distracting," Malfoy said in a collected voice as the furthest wall for what they called 'the back room' shifted away, creating a long, narrow space. The back room had been a space that had been too small to be a real room; Harry had wanted to use it as a store-room, but Malfoy had fiddled with some charms, and managed to create a kind of magical negative-space behind the wall. Hermione had helped with the calculations with that, so that now the wall could be moved as far back as they liked, without crashing into the neigbours' apartment. At least, so Harry hoped.

"Really?" Harry watched him as he went over to the large wooden trunk in the corner, opening it with a tap of his wand and taking out two long polished mahogany cases. Harry groaned; not the small swords. They had just taken these up, and he was still fairly wary of the very sharp points. Shacklebolt had ordered that every Auror learn some form of fencing, for grace and balance and Malfoy had not been able to contain his glee at this.

"Really," Malfoy affirmed, closing the cover of the trunk and placing the cases on top. "I assumed it would be aggravating, since I see you at home and at work. But it was… exciting, to say the least."

"I'm an excitement magnet, what can I say," Harry sighed, lacing his fingers and arching his hands up in the air, before bending over and stretching down his fingers to touch his bare toes, wriggling them against the blue surface of the practice area.

"Ready when you are," Malfoy called, a habitual sneer colouring his words and Harry straightened slowly, angling his head from side to side to work out any kinks. "Please, Potter," Malfoy continued in deadpan, "Take the time you need. All day, if you like."

"Could you just _wait_?" Harry glared at him and snatched his small sword out of its protective casing. Malfoy cast compact wards over both their bodies, and Harry felt the stubborn magic settle close to his face, ensuring he had room to breathe. It was a little awkward moving around with these protective shields (they tended to pinch under the arms), but Malfoy was serious about these things. Very serious.

Harry had barely gotten his guard position correct when Malfoy lunged elegantly, his sword arm and leg stretching in a rapid movement and Harry had to break measure, moving back from Malfoy's attack. He gritted his teeth and kept a close eye on Malfoy's sword-hand, feeling pleased with himself when he managed to detect an attack to high Quart, and managed to turn his wrist in time, so that the point of Malfoy's sword was deflected neatly with the strong of his, the part near the hilt. Malfoy gave him a large, mirthless smile, and attacked with a feint; Harry parried this one as well.

Lunge, thrust, parry. Feint. Malfoy spoke up as Harry tried to concentrate on their stance. "Did you sleep with him, Potter?" Malfoy's voice was almost conversational as they fenced and Harry barely deflected another attack, glaring at him. Malfoy's normally pale face was now flushed with exertion, his eyes glittering like as metallic flecks, thin lips pulled back from his teeth. Harry did his own feint and Malfoy did that infuriating counter parry, rotating his wrist rapidly so that the point of his small sword spun in a blinding circle.

"What if I did?" Harry tried that casual note that Malfoy did so coolly and only succeeding in huffing like a small train. Malfoy literally snarled at him, his attacks now breaking Harry's clumsy blocks, enough that Harry could feel the sharp point of the small sword prickling through the close ward, pushing painfully against his skin. Harry's temper rose up quickly, causing him to lunge forward at a completely wrong time, and his weapon went clattering to the floor.

Malfoy, being a _total_ bastard, dispelled the wards wordlessly, sent his own sword away with a quick _Leviosa_ , and then came at Harry with his fists.

Wonderful; but Harry was far better at fighting bare-handed than with a weapon. He grabbed Malfoy by the arms as he reached for him and pulled him forward, literally falling backwards on his own arse and pushing up into Malfoy's torso with his knees, shoving so that Malfoy rolled up over him and was flung against the wall behind them with an outraged yell.

"You shit!" Malfoy snapped and took Harry down with a low roundhouse to the back of his legs, just as Harry was getting back to his feet. They ended up tussling on the ground and Harry was in the middle of trying to pin Malfoy to the ground by straddling him, when he froze.

"God, Malfoy," he gritted out, feeling Malfoy's hardness press up against his bottom. "You're insane, are getting off on this? My god."

"Insane?" Malfoy said in his silkiest voice, and reached down between them to grasp at Harry's own highly interested cock. He tilted his head to one side, hair fanned out around his head as he sneered up at Harry, who closed his eyes as Malfoy continued to rub at him with the flat of that slender hand. "Well. It appears I'm not the only one."

 _Ah, shit_ , Harry thought as Malfoy grabbed him around the back of his neck and dragged him forward, kissing him viciously even before Harry could formulate any kind of complaint; after a moment, he couldn't remember what he should be complaining about, his hands twisting in the front of Malfoy's shirt. This was so unlike his time with Draco and even as a part of Harry's mind was trying to busy itself by processing the differences, the majority of brain-power was gleefully re-routing all major operations to his crotch.

Malfoy kissed as if they were still fighting, tongue lunging into his mouth, parrying and jabbing. His palm was hot and tight against the back of Harry's neck, some strands of Harry's hair caught in the clutch of his fingers. Harry groaned and writhed against him; Malfoy bit at his mouth and pulled his hair even more.

"Roll over, Potter," Malfoy ordered as Harry broke their kiss with an angered grunt; Harry refused on sheer principle. His denial was for naught, however, for Malfoy rolled them _both_ over, flailing limbs and cursing integral parts of this operation, until Malfoy sat astride him triumphantly, hands pressing Harry's wrists to the ground, tight enough to bruise.

"I can just imagine, Potter," Malfoy said in sinister tones, even as Harry struggled and his cock remained achingly hard, "that _he_ took you with tenderness and adulation."

"You could learn a few things from him," Harry gritted out and shuddered as Malfoy bent to bite at a corded tendon in his neck. "Oh, _god_."

"Or he could learn from me." Malfoy spat out a line of wandless Latin, and Harry found himself without his loose tracksuit bottoms, and then completely naked the moment after, feeling Malfoy's cock finally, _finally_ , stroking hot and hard against his. "He could learn to recall that sometimes... sometimes, Potter, you prefer a nice _hard_ fuck."

Malfoy, all bare alabaster skin that rose above Harry in a slender column of refined strength, sat back and tugged one of Harry's pinioned wrists in between those pale legs, behind the enticing silky weight of his sac, coaxing fingers from both their hands inside himself, until Harry got the point and caressed with the hand Malfoy allowed free, twisting his fingers deeper until Malfoy yanked them out again, already slick from a hurried lubricating spell. _Magic, I love magic_ , Harry thought wildly as Malfoy went up on his knees a little, holding Harry's slick cock a little too tightly before impaling himself on it.

"Ah, oh fuck," Harry moaned helplessly; he felt uncontrollable, out of control, moving his hips. Malfoy grinned down at him, raising up again as he clenched around Harry, and making the agonising slide down, licking his thin, red lips. Malfoy was evil, tight and warm and _evil_ , pinning Harry's wrists to the floor again as he allowed Harry to thrust up into him, his breath hitching with each slide of Harry inside him.

Malfoy bent to whisper in his ear, a running commentary on how Harry's cock felt inside him; Harry tried to move his head away, he couldn't _focus_ , damn it, but Malfoy grasped onto his head, biting his earlobe as Harry cried out at his hair being pulled. It was fairly brilliant, really. He grasped onto those narrow hips and bucked up, feeling his skin flush even more and his balls pull taut; he was arching as he came, hands scrabbling desperately on Malfoy's strong back, squeezing any handful of flesh he could find, only vaguely feeling Malfoy's hand moving quickly between them.

"Wait, let me," he tried, moving his hand lazily down. He wasn't too surprised to have it slapped away, and looked up with slitted eyes as Malfoy's come hit his belly in hot stripes. "Well," was all he could manage as Malfoy pulled off, the long muscles in his legs flexing as he stood up straight. Malfoy looked around, locating his wand and sending their weapons to their snug boxes, standing with a hand on his hip. The marks of Harry's clutching hands were darkening on his pale skin, marks of pride for making Harry come apart.

Malfoy stared down at him now triumphantly and Harry closed his eyes and thumped the back of his head against the floor, hissing as Malfoy's overly-chilly cleaning spell hit him. Groaning, he got up himself, fumbling for his training clothes and barely managing to drag them on as Malfoy snapped the door open and sailed out.

"Well, _hello_!" Harry heard him exclaim in mock surprise. "Oh, were you standing out here all along?"

"No, not really," Draco's mild voice floated in. "I just was wondering about Harry's safety."

Harry straightened the hem of his t-shirt and ran a hand through his excitable hair, listening carefully. He could practically see the stage set: over here, Draco leaning against the wall opposite from the entrance, arms folded over his chest, his eyes bright and piercing; and here, just outside the door, Malfoy's rigid form and hard face, nose wrinkled in a sneer.

"Potter is _always_ safe around me." Malfoy's tone was low and even. "Never boring. I guarantee that."

"I imagine you must confuse _boring_ with _affectionate_ all the time," Draco said, his own voice going soft. "But I don't even have to imagine. I know you."

"Unfortunately, you're quite right." The edge in Malfoy's voice was what prompted Harry to step out, looking closely at both of them. They were just as he had predicted, facing off with identical challenging stares.

"Everything all right, then," Harry said, not knowing if he was asking, or reassuring them both. Draco's face relaxed instantly, the tension in the air dissipating as he gave Harry a lopsided grin. Harry could see Malfoy's own expression grow even chillier, before he tossed his light hair and sauntered off down the corridor.

"Come on," Draco said after they watched him disappear into his small office. "That little park down the way there, let's have a walk. Get out of this place a bit."

* * *

Hermione's smile was reassuring, and Harry found that he _needed_ reassuring after the couple of days he had. He was exhausted; he probably needed a vacation from his vacation.

"We've almost finished recalibrating the mirror," she was now saying, her face floating cheerfully in the flames of the Floo. "I got special permission to tell you about our progress. Usually we don't, but this is an urgent assignment and all."

"I appreciate it," Harry said earnestly as he kneeled on the cool floor in his bedroom. He had been glad to discover that Hermione had been assigned to the Mirror Unit, plumbing the secrets of DeSouza's mirrors and repairing the broken one. Hermione had requested the key-wand from the evidence room, stating that it would be needed to put Draco and Malfoy back together. "So. Tomorrow, then?"

Hermione gave him a slightly amused, quizzical look at his barely nonchalant query. Ron yelled something completely incoherent from the open door of his and Hermione's bathroom, due to the fact that he was performing a vigorous cleaning spell on his teeth; both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes.

"I can handle the both of them," Harry yelled in reply, leaning forward. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, though."

Ron's reply was still garbled and Harry made a very rude response with his hands; Hermione gasped and laughed, before blinking seriously up at him.

"I know, I know," Harry said softly; Hermione's thick brown eyebrows twitched slightly. "Right now, I'm hoping that Malfoy isn't out in the kitchen slicing Draco to bits. They can be... a bit much."

"One Draco Malfoy is enough for the world," Hermione said with a shrug. "And we'll put make it better tomorrow, ok?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said and tried out a smile himself.

* * *

The mirror stood in the middle of a tall, narrow room, looking quite harmless; Harry inspected it closely, only seeing a very faint, jagged line where the crack had been. Hermione and two other Unspeakables were busy casting a barrage of spells around the mirror itself, runes glowing briefly on the ground as they were activated.

"That should be it," Hermione muttered, adjusting the robes of her office. They were large and uncomfortable-looking; her small face was flushed and she flashed a tired grin at Harry when he asked her discreetly about cooling charms. "No, it's alright. Let's do this. Malfoy? Stand here... no, a little bit forward, that's it."

She herded Draco into a spot on the opposite side of the mirror. Harry had realised earlier that both surfaces were now reflective; they hadn't been before.

"Now, I'm going to open the portals on both sides and do the incantation." Hermione flashed them both a stern look. "And on my signal, you'll step in at the exact same time. Ready?"

"Yes, get on with it," Malfoy said icily. Draco made a face and grinned at Harry when he stifled a chuckle.

"Alright." Hermione held up the key-wand, which hadn't been DeSouza's at all, from what their investigations had uncovered. It was older than first assumed, for DeSouza had stolen it from an Egyptian family after discovering its particular properties. Apparently, it had belonged to a wizard in the court of an ancient Pharaoh, using its powers to transport precious items over great distances for the King... and helping himself to the forbidden rooms of the favourite concubines, through the burnished copper surfaces of their mirrors.

Now, as Hermione muttered a complicated string of Latin, the surfaces of the mirrors seemed to soften, then ripple slightly, like the surface of a pool; Harry watched as they both stepped forward, perfect mirror images, for they were both dressed in dark robes. It was a little disconcerting to see them step up and in, and simply not reappear on the opposite side.

Hermione flicked the wand efficiently, ignoring the sand displaced by the entry of both Draco and Malfoy; they all watched as a soft light glowed from within the mirror and then faded away.

"That's it?" Harry said, slightly disappointed that the light-show wasn't more impressive.

"That's it!" Hermione looked confident and cheerful, and her face grew even brighter as a single, tall blond figure stepped out of the mirror.

Then her expression fell as another followed close behind.

And they all gasped as _another_ stepped out tentatively.

Draco and Malfoy folded their arms, glaring at the stunned Unspeakables; the newest one stood aside, looking at them all nervously from under a long fringe of fine hair. Harry rubbed at the sudden throb in his forehead. It hadn't worked... and he now had _three_ of them on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://keenoled.livejournal.com/profile)[**keenoled**](http://keenoled.livejournal.com/) for her kind assistance in the art of swords.


	4. And all so luscious

"What _happened_?!" Harry stared in shock as Hermione muttered at a massive roll of parchment, the other two Unspeakables reeling out the rest of it and peering at the spidery writing on it. "Hermione. I can't even... _Three_?!"

"More the merrier," Draco said with a brand of grim cheer; Malfoy looked very close to having a tightly controlled apoplexy. Harry wondered how he could tell them differently, but he thought it was something around the eyes. The third Draco Malfoy had managed to find some corner to tuck himself into, leaning against the cool brick wall with his head down, shoulders slumped.

"All these Arithmantic functions are _fine_!" He heard Hermione snapping at Malfoy, who fired something back about the equations and her postulates; amazingly, Draco was chuckling and trying to help the other two Unspeakables unroll the parchment. Harry sighed, and took the opportunity to approach the third.

Not knowing what to expect, he went slowly, with a soothing smile. The Third did not look up, but the long fingers splayed against the brickwork on either side of him twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Draco?" Harry tried softly. The Third bit his lip, and gave a small shrug. "Or... do you rather Malfoy?"

Another shrug, then a soft voice: "Anything you like."

Harry was gobsmacked. He actually stood there and stared at the Third for a very long moment, blinking rapidly until the darting grey glances shook him out of it.

"Er... well. Would you... I mean. Alright, so your middle name is Abraxas--"

"It's actually Abraxas Spungen du Apollinaire," Draco called out as he tried to keep Hermione from clawing furiously at a mocking Malfoy, who never failed to find some way to get under her skin and bring her to anger.

Malfoy glared at Draco. "Why is it you feel the need to spill _every_ secret I have?"

"They're not just _your_ secrets. Besides, why do you feel the need to _keep_ them?" Draco shot back. Hermione folded her arms over her chest, looking smug.

" _You're_ my favourite," she told Draco, ever spiteful when she was irate.

"Sometimes," Malfoy said in a chilling murmur, ignoring Hermione completely, "secrets are all I have."

Harry, staring at the tense tableau, inhaled slowly and glanced at the Third, who had been staring at him and now returned his gaze quickly to the floor. The way he pressed himself against the wall, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the anxious hunch of his shoulders, all this touched something in Harry. He moved closer, placing his hand on one taut arm; immediately, the Third turned his hand over, pale palm up, and Harry slipped his hand down, feeling the Third's fingers clutch around his.

"Herm, can we try again?" Harry felt his hopeful expression fall at Hermione's quick negation; tightly curled wisps of brown hair fairly whipped through the air as she shook her head forcefully.

"All my current calculations are correct... yes, they _are_ ," she hissed at Malfoy, who shut his mouth and sneered at her. "It's something else. There's some other factor that I have not included. I don't know." Her face was stormy at this last; Hermione simply did not like not knowing.

"It'll be fine," Harry felt the need to say out loud, maybe reassure the whole room; the Third nodded quickly, and Harry could feel the shy glance touch the side of his face. Harry turned and gave him a quick, reassuring smile. "I guess we'll have to stick to _Drake_ … or _Dray_ , or something."

"No, not those," both Draco and Malfoy said, and then gave each other quick, surprised glances.

"When I was younger, my mother used to call me her little Imoogi," Draco volunteered, and Malfoy nearly rolled his eyes out of his head.

"Or, Father would call me Scion," Draco continued; Malfoy still looked annoyed, but more pleased at this bit of information being revealed. "But I preferred Imoogi."

"Draix," the Third said quietly as the other two began bickering again; the Unspeakables began arguing over the scroll amongst themselves. Harry strained to hear him over the din. "When I was smaller, I couldn't say 'Draco Abraxas' properly. So I settled on Draix for myself."

"That's a bit cute," Harry said with a smile. "Draix. I like it."

The Third, Draix, gave him a long, solemn gaze, then a lightning flash of a smile. His hand tightened even more around Harry's fingers and Harry squeezed back.

"I think we need to pay a visit to the Sandman," Harry stated and all the arguments came to a halt. Hermione's thick brows were raised to her hairline, while Malfoy's face was suddenly bright with malevolent delight.

"When?" Malfoy's voice was eager. "Say _now_ , Potter. We'll go now and hex the information out of him."

"Aurors _do_ that?" One of the other Unspeakables fretted. Hermione shushed him and patted his arm absently.

"Look at him," Draco noted in a deceptively bland voice, tilting his head and fixing his gaze on Malfoy. "So keen to destroy someone."

"I don't see you stepping up to the task," Malfoy said crisply. "It's all about fun and games for you, isn't it? But _someone_ has to do the dirty work."

Draco's face flushed red. "Dirty work," he said very slowly, rolling the phrase around his mouth, and giving Malfoy a twisted grin. " _Dirty work_. So. When we were in school, and you were trying to figure out the—"

" _Don't_." Draix's voice was tiny, but it seemed to echo in the room. "Don't, don't go there. Not again."

Malfoy and Draco continued to stare at each other; Harry noticed that they both had the same stricken grey blaze in their eyes. He tugged on Draix's hand and felt him come forward quite willingly.

"Let's go," Harry said, feeling strangely exhausted. "Herm, Malfoy and I are going to see if we can't shake something out of DeSouza. Draco, Apparate to the flat with Draix… that's alright, right?"

"Yes, I might be able to handle that," Draco said airily. "It's not quite _dirty work_ , but I'm sure I'm up for it."

Harry gave Draix's hand one final squeeze and then released it. He smiled at him, and made sure to get a faltering one in return, before sweeping out behind a haughty Malfoy.

* * *

DeSouza was in one of the holding cells at the Ministry, still awaiting processing before he was brought before the Wizengamot. He was led to an interview space a corridor away from the offices of the Aurors, and was waiting with shackles and a smirk when Harry and Malfoy entered the tiny, dull room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Malfoy cast the strongest locking charm he knew, which was quite formidable, and took a seat directly across from the grinning criminal, placing the key-wand on the scratched surface of the table. Harry chose to lean in a corner, arms folded across his chest.

"Ah, I see what this is already," DeSouza said with a sharp laugh. "Good Auror, Bad Auror. Which is which?" His bright eyes flicked from Harry's face to Malfoy's; he propped his chin in his arms and favoured them with a mockingly attentive expression.

"My partner has been split by one of your mirrors," Harry said without preamble. "You know that. Now tell us about the key-wand. We need information to put him back together again."

"All the king's horses, all the king's men," DeSouza sang softly, tilting his head. "See, in my world, information comes with a price. What are the Aurors willing to offer for such a divulgement?"

"Let me tell you about _my_ world," Malfoy said almost conversationally. "You may call me Auror Malfoy."

DeSouza blinked rapidly at him, his face going pale.

"Yes," Malfoy continued. " _That_ Malfoy. My father was a Death Eater. You may have heard of Lucius. Or, even more infamously, Abraxas."

DeSouza's smile had faded from his face and he gave Harry a quick glance. Harry tilted his head and smiled without mirth; this was Malfoy's territory and he was in his element. Malfoy leaned back in his seat, inspecting his fingernails. "You might wonder how I became an Auror, with my family's... _background_. Needless to say, it was a long battle, and happily, some people are willing to forget." His gaze flicked up to DeSouza. "But, Mr. DeSouza, I have never forgotten who a Malfoy is. And what one is capable of."

Harry watched as DeSouza swallowed hard. "You... you wouldn't do anything," the Sandman challenged weakly.

"He would," Harry affirmed and DeSouza turned wide eyes to him. "Trust me on this."

" _He_ is Auror Potter." Malfoy sounded as if he was speaking over a nice cup of tea. "Ah, I see you were ignorant about your arresting officers. Harry Potter, a man of impeccable moral standing, who does not believe in the excess of violence."

DeSouza seemed to relax almost imperceptibly.

"Except," Malfoy continued softly, "in necessary cases. I _do_ believe this is a necessary case, don't you, Auror Potter?"

There was no verbal response, but there seemed to be a sudden invisible weight in the room, a faint buzzing, as if all the particles were vibrating. DeSouza opened his mouth, but only a faint croak escaped as his face went through a burning shade of red, straight down to a shocking purple in a matter of moments.

There was a faint _snap_ , and the heavy sensation in the room dissipated.

"Try not to underestimate us," Malfoy warned with dark glee as DeSouza's face returned to a more normal colour. "My colleague might not be able to stop next time."

"I thought Aurors didn't use intimidation tactics," DeSouza coughed out, struggling to regain his breath; his smile was completely gone and his brown curls were limp around his face. Malfoy's mouth curled into a mocking moue.

"We don't. I was just telling you the truth." He leaned all the way forward and DeSouza leaned back. "Now. Talk."

* * *

"The key-wand," DeSouza said as he exhaled smoke from the cigarette Malfoy had given him. "That wand, I don't think it always creates the right doors from the mirrors."

Malfoy glanced at Harry, but they let him talk.

"No. It's better to say that the doors you go through might not always end up where you want them." DeSouza looked up, his gaze sober. "Sometimes they go where you don't expect."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked softly and DeSouza switched his gaze to Malfoy's impassive face.

"Once... once I went through. And I saw myself in that Behind space. But not myself as I am now. Different." He gave Malfoy a tight smile. "Kind of peculiar seeing your own self, isn't it? Not as fun as you think it would be."

"Continue," Malfoy replied, but it was without his usual bite.

DeSouza shrugged. "The Behind space was different, too. Darker. Smaller. I saw things in there from other places. Things I grew up with."

"The Behind space... that's what you call that world inside the mirror, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Another mirthless smile. "So I simply came back out and locked that mirror. And asked the key-wand not to do that anymore."

"You _asked_ it?" Harry stared at him sceptically and DeSouza exhaled a twin streams of smoke from his nostrils before nodding.

"Never happened again." DeSouza closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple, the magical manacles glowing blue around his wrists. "That's all I know. So maybe it was that broken mirror that sliced Auror Malfoy to pieces here. Maybe it was the key-wand acting up." He opened his eyes, which had gained just a faint trace of their former derisive glimmer. "Maybe you should ask it."

"Possibly. Thank you for your assistance." Malfoy's tone implied that this interview had been anything but helpful. DeSouza gave them a quick salute as Malfoy got to his feet, but Harry noted that his fingers trembled slightly. "Let's go, Potter."

* * *

Draco insisted on pouncing on Harry and kissing him deeply as soon as he emerged from the Floo; Harry only heard Malfoy stomp off in the direction of his own room as Draco's tongue invaded his mouth. Harry clutched at Draco's shoulders, trying to say something, but it was hard getting anything out when Draco's mouth was pressed so firmly to his.

"Draco," Harry strangled out as his mouth was freed and his right ear nibbled on. "Wait. Draco, wait. Where's Draix?"

"Hmm?" Draco released his earlobe and descended to his neck, grinning against Harry's skin as he whimpered at the scrape of teeth. "Oh. In your room, sleeping, I think."

"Oh. Ooooh, _good_ ," Harry moaned as Draco's mouth brushed against that sensitive corner right under his ear. It took all his energy to hold Draco by the shoulders and hold him back, at an arm's length. Instead of appearing slighted that Harry was pushing him away, Draco's eyes twinkled in silvery amusement. "Oh, you just did that to piss Malfoy off, didn't you?"

Draco shrugged, his cheek dimpling in a sly grin. "You know me, Harry."

"Only too well." Harry stopped at this thought, blinking at Draco's face. "I do know you... for the most part."

Draco cocked his head, perplexed. "What are you on about?" He pressed the back of his palm to Harry's forehead, frowning. "Hmm. No fever, as far as I can tell."

Harry smiled and took Draco's hand from his forehead, brushing his lips over the fingers. "I'm going to go check on Draix. See if he's alright."

Draco sighed dramatically. "Oh, I know what will happen. You'll crawl into bed and lie there looking all innocent and delectable and in a few moments he'll be all over you. We simply can't help it."

Harry wanted to laugh at this; Draco's face was wrinkled in a demonstration of utter despair. He was such an actor, and would have Harry wheezing in laughter on the floor at his impressions of their co-workers and friends. He did a stammering Ron scarily well, and his imitation of a drawling Shacklebolt over Harry's shoulder at the office would send him in a panic over reports way past their submission dates.

"I'm not that delectable," Harry said with a smile and Draco laughed in reply, but his eyes had darkened.

"Little do you know," he said and then shoo'ed Harry off in the direction of his room. Harry opened his door slowly and peeped in; a band of yellow light from the open doorway fell upon the slender form curled up in his bed, one arm hugging Harry's pillow close. It was funny how all his Draco Malfoys were the exact same height, Harry thought as he closed the door quietly and made his way over to the bed in the dark, but Draix seemed smaller than the other two. Harry toed off his shoes, pulled off his robe and trousers and lay on top of the covers in just his shirt and boxers. He took off his glasses and placed them with his wand on the bedside table and turned to see Draix's eyes glittering at him in the gloom.

"Hi." Harry lay on his side and propped up his head with one hand. Draix smiled and reached out slowly, brushing a lock of dark hair out of Harry's face. His fingers brushed against Harry's brow and drifted to stroke lightly against a cheek, before pulling away.

"Hello. Any luck?"

Harry shook his head. "Tell me about yourself." His eyes were getting used to the lack of light in the room and so he could see when Draix's blond eyebrows twitched in surprise. "I mean. I know Draco and Malfoy. But you... not you. Not really."

"But I've always been here," Draix said and tried to roll over, but Harry reached out and stopped him. His mouth was a thin line in his face, and his eyes were averted. "I was _always_ here," he repeated plaintively.

Harry waited; not his strong point, but he tried to keep still as Draix seemed to struggle for words.

"When my father told me that the entire line of the Malfoy name was on my shoulders, I was there. When I saw you everyday at school, that part of me that was terrified to open my mouth and speak what I felt... that was me." Draix's voice was low and trembling, but Harry still waited, silently. "When... when you told me you wanted to be with me, and I wondered how long we would last.... That was me. I was there."

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, stroking Draix's arm. A thought began to form in the back of his head, some sort of solution, but it was barely nascent and Harry had learned not to pressure any of his ideas until they felt like bursting to life, all in their own time.

"Sometimes I wonder how you stand to be with me," Draix murmured underneath his breath. Harry made a soft, dismayed sound and drew him closer. Draix allowed himself to be pulled into Harry's chest, and Harry stroked his fingers through the blond, fine strands of hair, until they fell asleep.

* * *

Harry woke twice in the night.

The first time, he was alone in bed. The French doors that led to the tiny balcony which overlooked the inner courtyard of the building were opened slightly. Harry blinked, seeing two blurry forms standing close together in the small space, moonlight cascading over two heads of fair hair. Then, another person, hair just as bright as the first two, came close; a soft mutter of conversation drifted in a cool gust of night air. Harry opened his mouth to call out, then changed his mind and resolutely closed his eyes.

The next time he woke up, his head was pillowed in someone's lap, and there were hands roaming over his bare skin, soft touches along his eyebrows and jawline, tentatively sweet. There was a determined mouth at the crease of his leg and crotch, licking a painfully arousing line there before lapping at his balls. He moaned, arching his back slightly as another mouth traced laughingly around his right nipple. Hands, lips, tongues; Harry gasped as a mouth slid over his eager cock, reaching up one hand to touch the fluttering fingers on his face, to grip onto finely made fingers as someone shifted over him and a familiar, musky scent came at the same time as something hard and warm touched his lips. He opened his mouth readily, groaning at the taste of the smooth, pulsing flesh sliding in and out.

 _Harry_ , and it seemed as if there were echoes in the room, his name being called over and over again, in gentle whispers, wheedling tones, demanding groans. He writhed under a multiple onslaught and felt his body give everything it had, vaguely hearing soft moans as he came. More movement as the cock was tugged out of his mouth, relieving his aching jaw, and warm spatters flashed across his chest and stomach.

"Please," he croaked out, not knowing what he was begging for, or if he was really thanking them. All of them.

"Sleep," someone said tenderly and Harry was turned on his side and snuggled to oblivion.

* * *

"I don't see why three mirrors are needed," Hermione said with a frown, but her eyes were very intrigued. "Explain to me this idea of yours, Harry."

"I don't know if it will work," Harry warned. He, Hermione and his blonds were back in the narrow room at the Ministry; all of them eyed the new, whole mirrors retrieved from DeSouza's shop. Each one was placed at a vertex of a triangle chalked into the stone floor. "The last time you used just one mirror. But… you have to take into account all of who he is."

Hermione stared at him; Harry bit at his lip, watching her eyes take on that distant glaze as her mind began to take up different threads, calculating equations and spells and placing them in proper order. Ron had always explained that Hermione wasn't exactly the imaginative type, but the way her brain worked was simply amazing.

"I see," she said slowly, focusing on him again. She pointed her wand at the runes that formed the bold lines of the triangle and chanted. The runes glowed and Hermione thought a little more. "All of who he is…" She chanted again, and a line flared in the centre of the triangle, inscribing three points. A triangle within the triangle was formed, before that smaller shape began to rise up out of the ground, gleaming brightly. A three sided mirror now stood in the middle of the outer rune triangle, its faces reflecting the external mirrors.

"Wait," Harry said before Hermione began to order positions. "Wait."

He took a deep breath and went over to Malfoy, who narrowed his eyes as Harry took his hand.

"You're strong and stubborn," Harry told him softly. "And a right bastard. I don't know why we were never paired together on cases before, but I want to ask Shacklebolt if we can, from now on. There is no-one else I trust as much with my life when we're out on the field."

Malfoy parted his lips, grey eyes bright, but for once no sharp remark emerged. Harry squeezed his hand and left him to stand in front of one mirror, going over to Draco.

"I know what you're going to say," Draco told him with a grin. "I'm the fun one. I'm the one that makes your quaint, quiet life so much easier to bear."

Harry shook his head at the cheeky expression. "Yeah. You're so full of yourself, though."

"Why, thank you, my dear." Draco took his own place and Harry finally stood in front of Draix. He bent close, so that only Draix would hear him.

"You think you're weak. You're not," he whispered, lips brushing a pink ear. "I need you, just as much as you need me. Why do you think that is?"

Draix's breathing was sharp, and he turned his head slightly, his voice low. "Because… because you love me?"

"Keep that in your heart. Don't forget," Harry said as he stepped away. "Don't forget."

The three faced the external mirrors and Harry stepped outside of the runes. He could see the inside mirrors reflecting the outside ones, a million blonds in severe black robes, a million expectant expressions. He took the key-wand from out of the evidence bag, and stared at it in his hand.

"Show him how," he told the wand, and it grew warm and heavy against his palm. He approached one mirror, its keyhole revealing itself as the key-wand got close. He opened all three of the mirrors, their surfaces undulating in mercurial waves. "Ready?"

"Ready," three voices replied, and all of them stepped in at once, sand flowing out in their wake. Harry watched with his heart in his throat as shadowy forms abruptly flitted across the surface of the inner mirrors, three tall, slender shapes that blurred into each other as the runes burned white in the ground. One bright line suddenly snuffed itself out, then another. The final line shone so brightly that the darkening charm in Harry's lenses activated itself and then it was extinguished.

Of the three mirrors, only one still moved like the surface of a pleasant pond, and out of this one, a man stepped out. They waited; nothing else happened. Hermione made a completely unladylike fist-pump in the air.

"Draco Abraxas Spungen du Apollinaire Malfoy," Harry called softly as his glasses readjusted to look at the lone man, who shook himself slightly, a dreamlike movement.

"Yes, that's me," he replied, and then turned an enigmatic smile towards Harry, a lovely curve of those lips. "But sometimes, Harry, you can call me Draix."

  
 _I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious…_  
-"Song of Myself", Walt Whitman  
 **fin**  



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